A Roman Miracle

Photo by John Snyder via Wikicommons

Here’s a poem with a surprise ending for you today.  :-) I think this has been set to music, but I couldn’t find it online.

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A pretty maid, a Protestant, was to a Catholic wed;
To love all Bible truths and tales, quite early she's been bred.
It sorely grieved her husband's heart that she would not comply,
And join the Mother Church of Rome and heretics deny.
So day by day he flattered her, but still she saw no good
Would ever come from bowing down to idols made of wood.
The Mass, the host, the miracles, were made but to deceive;
And transubstantiation, too, she'd never dare believe.
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